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As I watch your silhouette fading away through the airport’s door,
I stumble down on my knees,
I play music, I cry like a baby because you’re not here with me anymore,
and probably you never will be.
An Atlantic distance between the two of us,
I know, it would make it a challenge.
As spring explodes in the shadow of the castle,
I sit alone in the sun you’ve seen,
as a dog barks and old souls hope for a better future.
Though spring is here for me it’s still September,
flowers bloom only on Arthur’s Seat.
People and stories go by,
and I can only think of you, of your sweet smile,
of your accent while speaking,
of the way you move when you show me things,
of your irresistible shyness.
Then a crossroad,
the drunk night of feelings,
and you already plan your next trip.
I see the green meadows in the sunshade,
I see us, holding hands, walking peacefully
creating the seed of infinite.
A dream, an illusion,
while life leads us astray,
and I still can recall your voice,
that fragile moment before it disappears in the flow.
And then I plan, I try to figure out what could I do,
to be that special man, to be the privileged,
who could kiss you under the castle’s hill.